by Blake Pierce
The name Kim did not register with Kate at first, but then she remembered Katherine telling them that her sister’s name had been Kim. Before the Fullers had taken her, Mercy Fuller’s name had been Kim Sanders.
“We don’t know,” Kate said. “There’s currently a manhunt underway for her.”
“And given that,” DeMarco said, “we need to ask you about where you’ve been the last several days.”
The reality of what DeMarco was suggesting slowly dawned on him. He chuckled, but it was an evil sound, one that was suppressed by a sneer. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked.
“Watch your mouth,” Jennings said.
“Mr. Sanders, the sheriff tells us you won’t let him look at your phone. Why is that?”
“Because it’s my phone. There’s private stuff on there.”
“Like what?”
Again, he only sneered. He looked at the three people standing before him, studying them. Kate was fully expecting him to break off into a run at any moment.
“There’s a warrant coming,” Jennings said. “All you’re doing is buying about an hour or so.”
“And pissing us off,” DeMarco said.
Kate couldn’t be sure, but she thought she could see the traces of tears in Sanders’ eyes. Slowly, almost as if he were mocking them, he held his hands out to them, wrists up.
“Arrest me, if you think you need to,” he said.
“Do we need to?”
He smirked, but it was clear that he was nervous. He knew he was trapped and that there was trouble coming. “My phone is on the dashboard of my truck.”
Kate walked over to the truck and opened the door. The inside smelled of grime, sweat, and stale cigarette smoke. She saw the cell phone sitting on the dashboard along with a few old pieces of mail and Burger King receipts. She took it out and found, without much surprise, that it was locked.
“What’s the passcode?” she asked.
“One, seven six, two,” he said. He spoke slowly, again making it feel like he was mocking them. He was essentially giving up, but he was finding a way to be difficult about it.
Kate unlocked the phone. She went to photos and found nothing of interest at all. Just a few photos of old trucks and truck parts. She then checked the text messages and found only a handful. Most were to people looking for freelance engine repair. Another was from a woman Nick was apparently in a sexual relationship with.
She then checked recent calls and it was there that she stopped. She didn’t even have to scroll before she saw something that stuck out. There was a number he had called twice in the last three days. And it had an area code shared with Deton—a different area code than she had seen for Carroll County when she had called the police earlier.
Kate called the number, her eyes locked on Nick Sanders. DeMarco had not cuffed him, but he still held his hands out as if he were waiting for it to be done at any moment.
In Kate’s ear, the phone went directly to voicemail.
The voice she heard in the recorded message made her blood feel as if it had been injected with ice water.
“Hey, guys, this is Mercy. Leave a message at the beep.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Kate almost hated to admit it, but she was glad there was just her and DeMarco to question Nick Sanders. Sure, Barnes, Foster, and all of his men had been an immense help to this point. But with them there had also been the buzzing of reporters outside and that small-town sense of community where people refused to believe that something so bad could happen in their town. She thought fondly of Barnes as she and DeMarco were led through the Carroll County police station; it was even smaller than the one in Deton, though it had been newly renovated, and the rooms were a little more spacious.
That included the interrogation room Nick Sanders was placed in. Kate stood outside of the room as Jennings and two officers carted Nick Sanders inside, cuffing him to the table and reading him his rights.
DeMarco watched through the partially open door and spoke to Kate under her breath. “I know this may seem like an unprofessional question,” she said. “But what in the hell is going on here?”
“I’ve got theories, but they all seem a little nuts,” Kate said.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?”
“No,” Kate answered honestly. “No, I haven’t.”
Sheriff Jennings came out of the room, flanked by the two officers that had been assisting. “He’s all yours,” he said. “Want me to call Deton and fill them in on what’s going on?”
“That would be perfect,” Kate said. “And thank you for your help.”
“While you’re at it,” DeMarco added, “could we get his record when you get a chance?”
Jennings nodded to one of the officers beside him and they went elsewhere right away to get the records. The sheriff then left Kate and DeMarco to their business with one final look back into the interrogation room.
They walked into the room slowly, almost casually. DeMarco closed the door behind them and leaned slightly against the back wall as Kate took the one seat on the side of the table opposite Sanders.
“When was the last time you saw the daughter you named Kim?” Kate asked. “The daughter that, for the last fifteen years, was known as Mercy Fuller?”
“I haven’t seen her since the day the Fullers took her.”
“You need to walk us through that,” Kate said. “Because anyone in their right mind would expect that you’d call the police to report a kidnapping. Did you ever report an abduction?”
“No,” he said. He would not look at either of them and his voice was trembling…not quite on the brink of tears but clearly wrestling with some sort of unexplored emotion. It was clear he was ashamed of the choices he and his wife had made.
“And why not?” DeMarco asked.
“Because we were assholes. We were selfish. Kim…we didn’t plan for her. We didn’t want another baby. Shit…we were pretty sure the hospital would keep her. We were sure she’d be born with something in her system. Not that we were trying to kill the baby or anything; we weren’t that messed up.”
“What about Katherine?” Kate asked. “Was she a planned pregnancy?”
“Yeah. Me and Helen tried having a baby right after we got married.”
“Were you using then?”
“Pot here and there. Coke once or twice. But the meth and the heroin didn’t come until a few years later.”
“Tell us how you got to know the Fullers.”
“I don’t remember how we met them. For real. I think maybe it was at a bar or something. We got along with them. We ended up hanging out a lot. Just to get together to drink, you know? I think we sort of scared them off when we got into the heavy stuff. I mean…when Helen started heroin…that was it. That was the end of her. And we knew we were shit parents. We were just lucky no one ever stepped in, you know? Like social services or whatever. We were really lucky.”
“Tell me about the day you and Katherine claim the Fullers took Kim from you,” Kate said.
“It was a Sunday. I know because we had asked them to come over to watch the Redskins play. They were playing the Cowboys—and the Fullers liked the Cowboys. We were surprised when they actually agreed. They had been sketchy around us, sort of distancing themselves from us. I figured it was because of the coke and her heroin. I felt like they were sort of starting to look down on us.”
“So they came over. And was there a fight?”
“No. Helen was working as a waitress. She got called in for an emergency shift. Someone got sick or something. It’s been what, fifteen years…I don’t remember all of it. But she had to leave and work…we couldn’t turn down any shifts, you know? Needed the money. Anyway…she’s gone for like maybe half an hour and then Alvin and Wendy say they need to get going. They left, you know…and I just sat there and watched the game with little Katherine. Kim was in her little crib thing. She was like maybe three months old. But then there’s a knock on the door. I got up and
answered it and it’s Alvin. Before he punched me the first time, I saw that he was crying…like messed up about something, you know?”
“So they left and came back?” DeMarco asked.
“Yeah…pretty sure that’s how it happened. The first punch broke my nose. I swung back at him but missed. And then he just sort of laid into me. I remember two or three more punches and then I was out. Blacked out. It was Katherine that got me to come back around. She was in another room when Alvin came back…she was calling me and trying to get me to sit up. She said Kim was missing.”
“And you weren’t scared or upset about that?” Kate asked.
“Of course I was. I called Helen and then…I was going to call the police but we had drugs in the house. Helen had shot up that morning. It was too risky. And the more we talked about it, the more we thought about it…we just decided maybe Kim was better off. Maybe we were better off…”
Nick did start weeping this time. It was as if the weight and tragedy of the decision to simply not report the abduction of their child fifteen years ago came crashing down on him in that moment. It came out in hitching sobs that Kate allowed him to get out before forging on.
“Mr. Sanders, how did you come to have Mercy’s number?”
“I started looking for her about six months ago. Or, I guess I started trying to find the Fullers. Katherine had found me and asked where Kim was. She found it hard to believe the story…that we just let her go.”
“Katherine didn’t stay with you long either, right? She ended up in foster care.”
“Look, I don’t need you reminding me how much of a terrible parent I was. I fucked up. I was stupid and selfish. I’m still all those things. But a man can only live with regret so long.”
A knock at the door silenced him. Sheriff Jennings stepped in, quickly handed Kate a thick folder and headed back out. Kate opened it up and saw Nick’s criminal record. There were several entries, most of them distributing and manufacturing crystal meth. There were also a few for assault and battery. He’d never stayed in jail for more than two months at a time, but the records went back almost twenty years—long before his second daughter had been born.
“When did you and your wife leave Waynesboro?” Kate asked.
“Not too long after Kim got taken. Helen started hitting the drugs harder then. She didn’t want Kim back but she was mad at herself because of it, you know? She stiffed a few dealers, so we hit the road. Never really stayed in one place or very long. I’ve been in Duck Branch for about four years now and that’s the longest I’ve stayed put since we left Waynesboro.”
“We’re going to need to know where you were every night for the past week or so,” Kate said. “Are you prepared to give us those answers?”
“I was around, you know? Out drinking, just doing my thing, you know?”
“No. I don’t know. I’d also like to know how you got Mercy Fuller’s phone number.”
“I paid this private eye. A guy up in Lynchburg.”
“What’s his name?” DeMarco asked.
“I can’t tell you that. He asked me not to tell people he was getting involved.”
“Mr. Sanders,” Kate said, doing her best to keep her anger in check. “Based on this folder I now have in my hands, I have no reason to believe you. And quite frankly, until you come clean and tell me where you’ve been the last few nights or supply me with the real source of Mercy Fuller’s phone number, you will remain under arrest for the murder of Alvin and Wendy Fuller as well as the abduction of Mercy Fuller.”
“How the hell do you abduct something that was yours in the first place?” he spat.
“Why don’t you tell me?” Kate said.
Her rage was growing quickly. She needed a break. The more certain she became that Nick Sanders had something to do with the Fuller case, the more she wanted to lash out at him. How could he be so flippant about the welfare of both of his daughters? She had seen negligent parenting in her line of work before, sure, but this was taking things to an entirely different level.
She left the room, headed straight through the station, and to the parking lot. Night had fallen about an hour ago. She looked up to the night sky, alive and vibrant with stars and the absence of light pollution she was used to in Richmond. She thought of Melissa and Michelle, not too far away under these same stars. She wanted nothing more than to hold little Michelle in that moment. She wanted it so badly that it brought tears to her eyes. She clenched her fists, trying to recall a time a suspect had angered her so badly.
“I see he was getting to you, too.”
DeMarco’s voice broke through the quiet of the night. Kate turned to face her, not caring if the wetness of the tears in her eyes was giving her away.
“He was,” Kate admitted. “And he’s guilty of something. I don’t know if it’s the Fuller murders or not, but he’s not coming clean about something. He knows more than he’s letting on.”
“We can call the state guys up in Deton,” DeMarco said. “Have them come get him and take him to Richmond.”
“I think that’s our best bet. Until he can give us some solid answers, he’s definitely the most solid suspect we’ve had to this point.”
“You buy the bullshit about the PI?”
“Not one bit. And it’s also weird that he’s not even trying to come up with an alibi for the past few nights. No lies, no stories, nothing.”
DeMarco nodded at this as she, too, started to look skyward. She sighed and then looked to Kate with the most sincerity Kate had ever seen out of her.
“You’re an amazing agent and likely the strongest woman I know,” DeMarco said. “But you should be home with your daughter and granddaughter. In light of what they’ve been through, you’re wasting your time and your passion on trying to figure out men like Nick Sanders.”
“You’re right,” she said. “But one thing Melissa knows about me—and hopefully something Michelle will come to understand—is that I have to stand up for those that can’t stand up for themselves. And right now, God help her, that person is Mercy Fuller. I can’t go back home until we find her.”
“No matter what?” DeMarco asked.
“Dead or alive, no matter what,” Kate said.
The comment drifted into the night and the stars twinkled overhead as if burdened by the weight of it.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
The crackers were gone and she hadn’t had water in about a day. She guessed it was a day. She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t tell the passage of time in this dark place. She had come to the conclusion that she was indeed in some sort of trailer. Not a big one like the ones on the back of big rigs, but maybe one like the smaller U-Hauls or those PODs storage units.
She also figured she’d been here for at least three days. She had her own clock worked out in her head. The times he came and spoke to her, it was probably sometime during the day—during the waking hours. Then, later, there would be the sounds of crickets and tree frogs and the world would go quiet. That was the night. And she had experienced three of them.
Now, though, she assumed it was the day. She could hear his footfalls. He was coming back to speak with her. Every time she had heard him walking, it was followed by his tapping on the outside of the container and speaking with her.
“Thirsty?”
She had been expecting his voice but even then, it chilled her. It made her want to start crying. She was not a stupid girl. He was keeping her for some damned reason. To rape her or abuse her or kill her. None of those options were great ones and she did not want to find out what he had in mind.
“I’m going to let you out,” he said. “You and I, we need to figure out what we’re going to do—where we go from here. I might…well, I might ask you to do some things to me. I don’t know yet. But I’m not a savage. I’m not going to keep you in there, in that dark place. So I’m going to open this door and you and I are going into my house. I’ll give you some of the cornbread I have left over from dinner. I have some Cokes in there,
too. Beer, too…but I guess you’re too young for that. So…yeah. I’m going to open this thing up. You try to run, I will catch you. And I will kill you. I have a rifle right here in my hand and I’ll use it. Do you believe me?”
The mere idea of being out of the dark was enough to make her answer. The rifle did not bother her. Hell, in that moment, any crude and psycho things he wanted her to do to him didn’t bother her. She just wanted out of the darkness.
She listened to keys jangling and then something heavy making a clunk sound. And then, holy of holies, there was light. Not a lot of it, but it was more than the absolute darkness she had been living inside for the last several days. Wherever she was, it was night. The air was relatively cool and smelled musty—not too dissimilar from the smell of the trailer she’d been in.
“You can come out,” his voice said.
She had been so distracted by that fake sense of freedom that she had not realized that she was about to see his face. She had only heard his voice so far. And she’d felt his punch. A hard one, right to her face. Her lips had busted and she’d bitten down on her tongue. There had been so much blood from that little attack, she was convinced that it was the sight and the taste of her own blood that had caused her to black out and not the punch itself.
She stepped out of the trailer, taking a small step down from where the lip of the back opened up about a foot off of the ground.
“Do you want some food?” he asked.
She nodded, but could not stop herself from asking the first question out of her mouth. “Are you going to kill me?”
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “God no. That would be stupid. That would be a waste. No…you and I are going to be on the move soon, I think. And I need you to trust me.”
“Might have been a better start to that by not kidnapping me. And killing my parents.”
He nodded, his face barely illuminated from a single overhead bulb behind him. He looked to be about fifty or so. He had black hair, a black beard, and hollow eyes. “You’ve got some spunk,” he said. “I like that. You’re going to be fun. Now…come on. Let’s get you some food and water.”
